


Venice, the moon and you

by Glendaa



Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Conflict Resolution, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gondolas, Italy, M/M, Romance, Sex Toys Under Clothing, The King is screened at the Venice Film Festival 2019, The King movie 2019, True Love, Venezia | Venice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-07-19 16:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19977121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glendaa/pseuds/Glendaa
Summary: 'The King' is screened at the Venice Film Festival.There's just one person Timothée Chalamet needs after the red carpet.Armie Hammer delivers ;-)As always, not beta'ed. Have mercy.





	1. Missing you

“I want you there, Armz”.

“Tim-”

“No, listen. I’m serious”. He bites his cheek, glad they are not Facetiming for once. He’s trying to be assertive and it’s hard enough without ‘the’ Armand Hammer giving him those puppy blue eyes.

“You know I’d love to”.

“I’m fucking tired of going everywhere with Will or Lily-”

He sighs. “Fuck, Armie, it’s Venice!”

“Yes and it’s great and you have no reason to be nervous”.

“I don’t care if it’s ‘Fuori Concorso’. You know how Venice or Cannes are. Out of competition, my ass. They nitpick everything and-”

“Everyone adores you, Tim. It will be good. They’ll love it. Or not. But still, they’ll love you. Even with your atrocious bowlcut”.

He hates how he tries to diffuse the tension.

“Don’t. Just don’t”.

“Tim, please. You are making it so hard for me-”

“Not enough, I’d say”, he spits bitterly. “I need you there, Armie”.

“I cannot-”

“Fuck you”. He throws the phone against the nearest wall.

_One month later_

Timothée hears a soft knock at the door.

The valet hands him a gift bag, bows his head and walks away.

Inside, a box is wrapped in opulent Florentine paper tied with green velvet ribbon. A small envelope is tucked in the folds of the elegant package.

His first instinct is to throw it in the trash, sight unseen.

“Fuck you, Hammer”, he mutters under his breath as he opens the note.

_I wish I could be there and hug you, calm your nerves with my mouth on your skin. I’m sorry, I can’t._

_My people talked to your people, so I know this will work with your outfit. Please, wear it._

_I know you hate it when I buy you expensive things. But this is not me trying to buy your forgiveness, it’s just me wishing to be near you._

_Talk later._

_A._

He takes the jewel in his hands.

It’s beautiful, of course. Delicate and manly and cutting-edge at the same time.

 _Just like you_ , he knows Armie would say.

He notices the tiniest engraving and goes to the window to read it better. _Cor cordium._

He chokes a sob.

~

The party is going strong.

The reaction to the screening was not as bad as he imagined. Not as good as he wished either, but yeah... It’s all done now.

He knows his fans, the peaches, will have his back when the movie comes out. He smiles at the memory of the frenzied crowd waiting for him. He's still drunk on all the love he received. Little Women and Dune are coming out soon.

His career is moving forward, scripts are flocking to his agent. Maybe he has overreacted after all.

Probably needs to say sorry to Armie. Later.

He smiles, mingles some more, chats with producers, fellow actors and socialites. It’s fine. It’s work.

He wishes he could be curled on a sofa, though, with a tub of ice-cream, feet under Armie’s thick thighs looking for something to watch on Netflix.

He is offered a glass of champagne. He startles when he sees that the waiter has his jacket in the other hand.

“Please follow me, Mr Chalamet”, the older man says with a thick Italian accent.

He is intrigued, downs the chilled bubbles and puts on the jacket.

“This is for you. May I help you with fixing it?”

The man is showing him a typical Venetian mask. It’s big, meant to cover the whole face, gold filigree on emerald green. Gorgeous.

He nods and lowers his head.

He follows the man outside, towards the main entrance of the old palazzo the party is held in.

Under the full moon, dark water is lapping at the stone steps. A graceful gondola waits at the mooring.

“It doesn’t really work with your outfit, but it matches your eyes”.

He grins, turns and exhales for the first time in weeks.

“Oliver”, he whimpers, taking in the tall masked man, dressed in dark blue, coming towards him.

“Elio”, he nods and then he’s caressing his hand, fingertips tracing small circles on his skin before hugging him tight.

“Missed you”, Tim says to his neck.

“Ready to go?”, he answers, jumping on the gondola and extending his hand.

The gondolier tucks a blanket around them _against_ _chilly air, Sirs_ and they start the ride.

Tim is speechless. There’s so much he wishes to say, but words just won’t come out. Who cares, they are not needed. Not now.

He snuggles closer to Armie, who opens his arms and moves to make space for him.

The gondola swerves and the gondolier hisses something about not moving. Something about falling in the waters and being eaten alive by rats.

Tim laughs and Armie laughs and the gondola is swaying and the gondolier is swearing and it’s all so perfect.

So, so perfect.

They want to be closer, and finally find the best position. Tim sitting between Armie’s legs, back to chest, and his Apollo in a fiery red mask caressing his knees and waist and arms.

And it’s all so delicate and so not enough. Not after all this time.

Tim wishes it were Armie’s lips stroking gently his neck. A soft whimper escapes his mouth, Armie hugs him closer.

“Oliver, my Oliver”, he whispers, and Tim is crying. Fat tears try to roll down his cheek, but the mask is too tight.

“Elio”, he murmurs. “ElioElioElioElioElioElioElio”.

“I know”, Armie says. “I’m here. I’ll always be at your side”.

They ride the Grand Canal, pass S. Maria della Salute, go through minor canals towards the Fenice area.

Beautiful, so beautiful.

It’s Venice. What more can you say?

The most romantic place in the world. And he gets to share it with his love. He’s so lucky.

Everywhere fascinating corners, where time has stood still centuries ago.

The gondolier is singing, an old haunting melody about long lost love that gives them chills even without understanding the words.

Tim thinks about all the lovers that have met in the calli, booking a gondola to have a quiet moment to themselves. He hopes, against all odds, they found a way to each other.

They are steered towards darker canals until they meet no other boats or tourists.

“Wait, where are we going?” Armie asks. “Shouldn’t we-”

“You trust me”, the man says. “Off the beaten track we go”.

Tim feels Armie tense. “We didn’t agree to-” but the gondolier has already jumped off at a mooring site.

They find themselves under an ancient stone colonnade, practically invisible from the outside.

“Wait a moment-”, Armie stands, angry, and the gondola sways.

“Better to sit, Sir”. The gondolier ties the gondola. “I’ll be back in an hour, ok?”

“What? Why?”

“Loved your movie”, he winks and he’s gone.

They stay in stunned silence for a moment, then start laughing.

“Tell me you arranged it?”, Tim asks.

“No, I swear. I mean… I just booked a gondola ride, wasn’t expecting this”, Armie says untying his mask. “I thought we could have some time for us, alone”.

“Well…” Tim says with a glint in his eyes. “It seems we will”.


	2. Love boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut.  
> Just plain smut on a gondola in venice.  
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You had asked me for it, back in July and today I was inspired by the impending arrival of Timothée Chalamet in Venice for 'The King'.  
> Wish I could go, but alas... so I wrote this. 
> 
> Not beta'ed or anything, written on the wings of passion. Tell me in the comments if you like it!

While Armie helps him out of his mask, Tim traces his stupidly handsome face with shivering fingertips.

“Are you cold?”, he asks.

Tim shakes his head slowly. He’s pretty sure he’s looking like the typical star-struck kid, all open mouth and heart eyes. Basically Elio in Bergamo.

He feels so childish right now. “I’m sorry”.

“No. Tim, no. It’s all my fault”.

“I shouldn’t have pressured you to come here…”

“Hey, hey”. Armie strokes his cheek. “Don’t ever feel guilty for needing me, ok? It’s me who should be more present and-”

A finger to his lips stops his words.

“Life will catch up with us soon enough; there will be time to talk. Not know, please?”.

Armie nods, kisses his fingertip, then bites it lightly.

“We are in Venice. Together. On a fucking gondola. Alone!” Timmy’s grin is infectious.

“Maybe calling ourselves Elio and Oliver wasn’t the smartest move to pass under the radar”.

“Maybe. But we wouldn’t be here”, Tim says wiggling his eyebrows.

“Charmies are everywhere”, Armie snorts.

“If they even knew…”

For once they giggle like carefree teenagers.

“You are wearing my gift”.

“Always”, he whispers, biting his lips and looking at him from under his lashes.

“Tell me what you need”, Armie breathes against his neck.

“Everything”.

“Everything?”

“Everything”.

The blond nods and their lips finally touch. _Fucking finally._ And it’s fireworks and Fourth of July and Christmas all over again.

 _It won’t ever go away_ , Tim thinks before opening his mouth and swiping his tongue against Armie’s lips.

The soft smile he receives is enough to make his heart beat harder and faster.

_Thanks again, random luck of the universe!_

The kiss starts sweetly enough, but soon turns into licking and biting and devouring. One hour is not enough. Not after all this time.

Tongue and teeth fight for control, hands tickle and caress. And all of a sudden it’s sweet, soft pecks again. Gentle nibbling and whispers of love.

It’s just how things work between them - a constant longing and meeting and reassessing and taking delight in and promising.

Desire and tenderness move back and forth like the dark waters that lap at their gondola.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“Love you too. Always”, he nods.

“Always”.

It starts again, immediately, the hunger, the need.

“I want you inside me, Armie. Please”.

“I’m sorry, Tim, I hadn’t thought we would be alone. I didn’t bring-”

“It doesn’t matter…”

“Of course it matters. Don’t wanna hurt you, it’s been so long. Or…”

Fears and doubts are always in the back of Armie’s mind - no matter how silly they seem when they are together, they resurface like toxic mold every day they are apart.

And it’s been months.

And Timmy’s so pretty and Lily-Rose and Will are always available, unlike him…

Tim rolls his eyes. “I can hear your brain spewing bullshit from here, Armz. Just stop”.

“But…”

“Shut up”, he says, guiding his lover’s hand to his ass and lower, until his shaky fingers trace the faint outline of something inside Tim’s body.

“What-?”

He blushes. “Remember when we bought it in London, last January? I wanted something yours with me tonight, in me”, he says quietly. “Since you wouldn’t be coming …”

“Oh, babe”, Armie chokes and it’s bites and moans again and hard cocks straining against too-tight trousers.

“Sure you want this? Here?”

“Don’t make me beg!”

“Only because we don’t have enough time”, Armie retorts, grabbing the masks back.

“What are you doing now?”, Tim whines.

“Wouldn’t want to risk exposure, ‘Elio’”, he says as he ties Timmy’s one first, than his own.

“But this way you won’t be able to kiss me”, he pouts, arms crossed on his chest.

“We’ll have to make do, babe”, he says sternly. “The King doesn’t need this kind of adv, right?”

“Ok, ok”, Tim relents.

“Look at us. So cool! We look like guests at a party straight out from Eyes Wide Shut”.

“Nothing straight here, I’d say”.

“Silly goose”, Armie chuckles. “Let me get you naked. You know you broke the internet again, right? Mr. fuckable fashion icon! Wouldn’t want someone to recognize your clothes as I’m pounding into you”.

“Aaarmieee, you can’t say shit like that. Gonna come in seconds. I’m already close”.

“I do this to you, uh?”, he says as he peels the clothes away, leaving Tim stark naked, hands covering his crotch. He stores his designer outfit in the wooden bench. The gondola sways under his movements and Armie steadies Tim as he sits.

“Let me look at you. Come here”.

Tim sits on his lap, knees on either side of him, and Armie covers him with the velvet blanket, so that the only visible part of his body, if someone decides to come up through the canal, is the back of his curly head and his shins.

Satisfied of his inspection, Armie focuses on the boy in front of him, already leaking, looks at the blotchy red on his neck.

Turned on, he licks his lips, the mask makes it difficult, and swipes his thumb across the head of Tim’s dick. The hiss that escapes his throat is manna from the heavens.

Armie truly hopes he is ready for him, because there’s no time to prepare him as he wishes.

He reaches under Tim’s dick, tugging a little at his sack before going lower and finding the butt plug.

He slowly pulls it out and caresses the stretched rim with the tip of his fingers. _Lovely_ , he thinks.

“Aaarmiee, come on!”, Tim whines as he tugs at his zipper.

He shift his hips to help him free his dick and his eyes almost roll back in his skull when Tim simply sits on him in one swift movement.

Their groans are drowned by the harsh, swishy movement of the gondola.

“Easy boy”, he chuckles when he gets his breath back. “Rats, remember? We don’t want to fall in the canal”.

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me already”, Tim growls and Armie does just that - tiny little jabs at first, careful to not tip over the boat.

Timmy’s hips are making fluid motion patterns in search for…

 _Yeah, he got it_ , he nods, when the boy starts bouncing wildly on his dick, chasing his pleasure.

Armie looks at his hooded eyes, only thing visible under the gold and green Carnival mask, wonders how plump his lips are, if he’s biting them.

He hears him hiss, sees him shiver so swipes both tumbs on his tiny, erect nipples.

With a cry, Tim arches his back and comes all over his chest.

 _Suit’s ruined_ , Armie’s brain provides, and he’s coming too, fingers pressing on Timmy’s hips, leaving marks.

“Fuck, that was good”.

“That was awesome”.

They laugh, clean up shakily with the blanket.

No one is around, scene seems safe enough, so Timmy retrieves his clothes and puts them on.

Armie wets the blanket in the water and dabs at the stain of come on his jacket before remembering that Venice’s water is brackish and the salt will ruin definitely the garment.

He decides to just drape it over his arm, as if it were too hot for wearing it.

They cuddle, Tim’s head on his shoulder, heavy mask scratching his skin.

Armie welcomes the disconfort, hopes tomorrow the scratches will be visible – he will be the only who knows what they mean.

“Thank you for coming”.

“Hey, I thought you came too!”

Tim elbows him in the ribs. “Love you”.

“Love you”.

“Forever?”

“Forever”.

~

LA VOCE DELLA LAGUNA: BREAKING NEWS

\- SCANDAL ON THE CANAL -

Twelve-year-old Paolo Visentin was playing with his brother’s DJI Mavic Air Drone, hoping to record the passing of a flock of storks, when his phone filmed something else entirely.

Eighteen-year-old Mattia Visentin, after having punched his younger brother “for touching his stuff without permission” - the parents said to our reporter - retrieved the phone, laughed at the clip and proceeded to upload it on YouTube with the title ‘Carnevale in anticipo’ (Carnival in advance).

[The short video - 55.599 hits in 3 hours - was subsequently deleted].

The owner of the gondola - where a blond man and a dark-haired girl were “apparently having a bit of fun” - thirtyfive-year-old Lorenzo Zeni, stated that the gondola had been removed from its usual mooring site without him knowing.

“Genitori Per La Promozione Della Moralità (Parents for the Promotion of Morality) are concerned”, said their spokesperson, “for this incident that shows Venice under a bad light”.

The local Tourist Office is pleased, instead, by the peak of bookings from people wanting to try the experience of a ‘romantic’ night on the gondola. “Business is business”, the mayor of Venice, Luigi Brugnaro, told the press “and that’s all I will say on the matter”.

**Author's Note:**

> This is FICTION. 
> 
> But, to me, this is what will happen (or has happened, depending on when you found this fic) after the screening and party, when no one was around to witness it ;-)
> 
> “Venezia, la luna e tu” is a 1958 Italian comedy film directed by Dino Risi. It has nothing to do with this. I liked, and stole, the title ;-)


End file.
